Suddenly she recollected having seen some wild plum trees growing on the hill beyond the spring, and she knew the fruit should now be ripe, and she thought she would go and get some, to make a pie. No sooner thought than attempted. She seized her bonnet, caught up a little basket, and set out. She hastened down the dingle path, crossed the run, and climbed the hill. She reached its summit, and stopped to breathe, and rest for a moment. The sudden glory of the extended landscape held her spell-bound. On one side of the forest—a boundless ocean of waving greenery—spreading on and on, thousands of miles, for aught she knew, after it was lost under the horizon. On the other side, the vast prairie, with its dotted groves, like oases in desert, and in the distance the river, and the village, and the opposite shore of Missouri Territory. For a few minutes she stood in enchanted admiration; and then, remembering that she had no time to lose, addressed herself to the errand upon which she came, promising herself, after tea, when they should be at leisure, to return with Mark, and view the landscape over by moonlight. The wild plum trees furnished a rich harvest. She had only to shake the slight and graceful shaft, and a shower of ripe fruit fell around her. She quickly filled her basket; and then, with her girlish love of change, she returned to the house by another way. By this little route through the thicket, she observed, late as it was in the season, a profusion of wild raspberries, of unusual size and richness. She stopped, in pleased surprise, to gather them, and heaped them up on top of the plums, as many as the basket would hold.